


Thus With a Kiss

by walking_tornado



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: F/M, Language, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1915860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walking_tornado/pseuds/walking_tornado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Max is captured, the plan to free her goes horribly awry.  (AU following episode 2.20 Love Among the Ruins)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thus With a Kiss

Logan heard yelling coming from the dilapidated former factory in Terminal City that temporarily housed the heart of the transgenic movement. He pulled, and the rusting bay door rolled open with a grinding squeal that seemed to reverberate through the exoskeleton he wore. Logan winced. Despite the noise he'd heard from outside, only one person sat in the room. 

"Joshua?" Logan said. The large transgenic sat on ground with slumped shoulders, and though his eyes turned towards Logan, his dog-like face remained downward and he shrank lower. "Sorry it took so long," Logan continued. "The sector police have stepped up their presence at the gates and sneaking through was . . . tricky. So, tell me again what happened and why you called." As he spoke he picked up the paint-riddled keyboard, and a tangle of wires from the ground. 

"Accident. Paint fell." Joshua gestured to a large canvas that had been stretched flat and now had wide vertical stripes of black and red paint. Logan turned the keyboard around in his hands and noted that it was likely that a small can of paint had spilled into it. 

"Tried to fix it," Joshua said, and Logan had no trouble believing it. As much as he was a great painter, Joshua seemed incredibly inept around technology. 

"Messed it up further?" Logan's guess was confirmed by Joshua's nod. He sighed. 

"Yeah, okay." Logan didn't bother asking why he hadn't approached some of the more technically minded transgenics that hung around. With so many different personalities in close quarters, tempers flared with little provocation, and though Joshua might be a poster boy for the uprising, he wouldn't have wanted to do anything to upset the balance in the fractious group. 

"Let's move your painting—" 

"Flag." 

"Flag," Logan said, "further from the computer equipment. It's a bit close." He frowned at the jumble of wires. "It looks like these were cut." 

"Yes." Joshua's shoulders drooped further. 

Logan sighed. "Okay. I'll go see if I can find some replacements in the pile of stuff they've salvaged, and maybe I can splice these back together." He reached for his box-cutter knife and stripped the ends of the wires. "Yeah," he muttered, "I should be able to do something with this." The sound coming from the hallway increased in volume and Logan looked up to see that Alec had opened the door and made a beeline to where he'd parked his motorbike. He searched through his saddlebag and emerged with a roll of money. With a skip in his step he walked back towards the door. 

"Alec? What are you doing?" 

"Hey, Joshua," Alec said. "You want in? It's about who can get a bonfire going in the alley the quickest: the one who can generate electricity by clapping his hands or the bee-like one who generates heat by trembling." Joshua shook his head, and Logan did likewise when Alec looked to him. Logan almost thought he saw a trace of regret on Alec's face, but the X5 said nothing further and hurried off to the competition. 

Logan got to work. 

* * *

"Joshua?" 

The clang of the large metal door falling closed heralded Max, and Logan immediately looked up from his monitors. Between the screens and through the wires, he saw her walk in. Dark. Radiant. Fuck! Usually she'd have seen him right away, but hidden as he was behind the electronics, she must have thought he was one of the other transgenics. 

"Joshua!" 

"Hey, Little Fella." Joshua's reply seemed unusually soft in comparison to Max's sharp forcefulness, strident, both in her manner and in her voice. 

"Hey, Big Fella, I'm looking for someone. . ." 

"You found Joshua!" Joshua gave her his best smile and thumped his chest for emphasis. Logan hid a smile at her large friend's eagerness. 

"No, I'm looking for a kid who was supposed to meet me inside Sector Three gate. I waited but he never showed. Hoped he'd made his way here. You seen him?" 

Joshua shook his head emphatically and his shoulder length hair danced around him. Logan grinned at the memory of Alec explaining the concept of a haircut to him, and the snarl of Joshua's cleft lip that he'd received in response. 

"Shit!" Max looked back at the closed door, as if willing the kid to materialize. 

"Ask Logan," Joshua said, and Logan snapped his eyes back to his work. He'd nearly finished splicing the wires. There was just one little part left and he could leave. 

"Nah, I . . . I don't think I should bother him. And the phones aren't working well, anyway." The knife in Logan's hand sliced through both thin wires and he winced. They couldn't afford waste like that, and he no longer had the means to replace them. 

Joshua bounced. "Logan is _here_!" he announced, and he let out a little bark of excitement. 

"What? Where?" She almost sounded scared, and suddenly Logan wished anything but to see Max right now. 

"Computer," Joshua told her, with a jerk of his head. "Little Fella okay?" 

Logan wanted to see what had put that undertone of worry Joshua's voice, but he didn't look up. 

"I'm fine," Max said. Even from where he was, Logan could hear the lie. The next time she spoke, it was from across the table. 

"Hey." 

"Hey," he replied. 

"Where is everyone?" Max asked. As with all their conversations lately, the awkwardness of their pauses could only be surpassed by the awkwardness of actually speaking. 

"In the alley, I think. Round the back." 

"Why?" 

"A competition. A couple of your . . . a couple of the transgenics challenged each other to who can start a fire the fastest without a match. I think everyone else is there for the betting." 

"Are you serious? Don't they know there's a war on! It's about their goddamn survival and they're playing games!" 

Logan frowned. That seemed unusually harsh, and characterizing any transgenic as ignorant of war was like accusing a lion of not being cat-like enough. "Max, ease up. Everyone's been on edge, and they just—" 

"Decided to be cavalier about living? Let's have fun and forget about the danger?" Max said. Her eyes bored into his, dark and livid. Scared. And Logan knew that this conversation was no longer about the transgenic kids. Maybe it never had been. "They know better." 

"Max—" 

"I leave for a minute, and they . . . I can't always be on guard all the time. I need them to step up!" 

Dammit! When had he _ever_ not stepped up? "Maybe a little relaxation is what they need to remember why it's worth fighting." Logan's soft words had the effect of a paralyzing drug on Max. Then it wore off. 

"And they'll die while figuring it out." An impasse; the same one they always hit. 

They stared at each other across the table, with their view partially blocked by the electronic equipment. Logan felt the same stirring he always felt around Max. Sexual, sure, but more than that. She was . . . Logan knew no one else would ever hold a candle to Max. And knowing that he would die if they touched, that the bastards at Manticore had given her a Logan-specific killer virus, transmitted through the smallest touch . . . it was torture, but it wasn't enough to keep him away. He could make a life with her, without touch. That she thought she was acting in his best interests by breaking things off and avoiding him, that she thought he would get over it and would move on with his life if she stopped seeing him . . . he didn't know what to think. Manticore had a lot to answer for. 

"A kid. Sector Three. He get picked up?" 

Logan said nothing, and tacitly agreed to let the argument go. He swiveled his chair to face the one working computer and started a search. It would have been faster from his old condo, but that was gone, and his setup at Alec's old place was no better than the one he had helped set up here. From the corner of his eye, he noted that Max craned her neck to see the screen, but still she came no closer. Maybe with her enhanced vision she could see fine from over there, but the distance still hurt. 

The alert that flashed on screen proved a welcome distraction, and he felt a bit guilty. 

"Problems?" Max asked. 

"Yeah. Your friend was taken in by sector police." 

"Dammit!" 

"White's people are on their way . . . but they're tied up in the protests at the Sector Two gate." 

"So I have time to get to him before White." 

"Not much." 

"Don't need much." Max spun around and sprinted for the door, and Logan gave a fond smile at Max's typical, and not unwarranted, confidence. "Tell Alec," she called out before the door clanged shut behind her. Logan's smile faded. He picked up his phone. 

He fought the jealousy that always twisted his gut at the thought that Max had hooked up with Alec. Of all people she could have chosen . . . Whatever fling they were having, it couldn't be serious. They would implode all on their own, he knew; they brought out the worst in each other and acted more like siblings than romantic partners. But even to watch the childish verbal sparring, the teasing, the casual touching . . . it hurt. Logan thought that it probably wouldn't matter so much, except that even those friendly slaps, the nudges, and the high-fives were off-limits to him. 

"Yeah?" Alec answered, and his voice came through clearly, without even the static interference that happened when the wind blew from the right direction. Logan quashed a flash of irritation that threatened to spill over into anger, as he remembered the bullshit reason Max had given Joshua for not contacting Logan about the missing kid. 

"Max needs you," Logan said, and didn't that truth just gnaw at his insides. "Sector Three gate." He snapped closed the phone. The high road was a lonely place to walk. 

* * *

Logan looked at his cracked watch face in the sliver of moonlight that came through the dirty window, and he hoped that the timepiece had finally broken and that Max wasn't hours late. His compulsive need to check the police scanners, and to have complete silence as he did so, had sent most of the transgenics elsewhere. 

"Max?" Original Cindy asked. Logan simply shook his head. Logan forced himself not to take out his irritation on the people around him. He needed to save his frustration and place them for where they belonged, namely on Alec. They should have been back already. 

"Going to get her," Joshua announced decisively, and stood up. Logan wasn't the only antsy one. 

"Oh, no-no-no! Your flea-bitten hiney is doing no such thing! She ain't ever left us hanging. Sit your ass down and give her time." 

Joshua sat, head bowed, but Logan didn't think he'd remain there for long. 

Moments later a huge commotion was heard outside, the door crashed open, and Alec walked in. Alone. 

"They got Max," he said. 

It was Logan's worst nightmare. And he seemed doomed to live it over and over and over. 

* * *

Logan immediately began a search of police communications with a series of efficient keystrokes. "Tell me," he said to Alec, and silently congratulated himself for his professionalism. 

"They used the kid as bait," Alec said. 

"You consider that possibility?" 

Alec looked at him in frustration. " _Of course_ we did! But you put a 9-year-old in a certain-death situation unless someone decides to play hero . . . What do you think Max was going to do? Let the kid die?" He spun around to a red-haired little boy who had cautiously peeked around the door behind Alec. "You. Down the hall sixteen paces, turn left, enter the second door on the right. Say Alec said to assign you a bunk." 

"Yes sir!" The child had snapped to attention as soon as Alec spoke. The child was dressed in clothing that Logan would only generously call rags, but his Manticore training shone through. By all accounts, White's group was just as bad as Manticore, with a dash of added fanaticism. And these people had Max. 

Shoving the emotions behind his professional facade, Logan snagged his keyboard and got to work. "Hang on, Max," he muttered to himself. Only Alec turned around and the look he gave Logan was pitying. For his own sanity, Logan chose to ignore the man's existence. 

"Found her. At least she's in the system and not taken off-grid by White. Oh, wait . . . scheduled for transfer. Maximum security holding." 

"You still have that friend in the police department?" Alec asked, coming up behind Logan. 

"Why?" Logan asked. 

"Gotta get something to Max," he said as he walked out. "Just set it up." Alec walked out without another glance, and Logan heard him shout to Mole that they needed to do business. 

Logan repressed his frustration and picked up the phone to explain the situation to his contact as best he could and still withhold as much information as possible. 

"No." Detective Matt Sung's definite answer rocked Logan. He'd always been dependable, loyal, and one of the rare honest people Logan had found in the Seattle PD. 

"What?" 

"Listen, I'm sorry, but tell Eyes Only that I can't be his guy for this. It's this new partnership we have with one of the government departments. The agent in charge—Agent White—I think he suspects my involvement some of the incidents I helped you with. There's been someone going through the closed files. If I go in and ask to talk to the girl—and isn't that the same one who was involved in something last year?—it'll just focus his attention on her, and I think that's the last thing you want." 

"Already happened," Logan muttered to himself. 

"Sorry, I didn't catch that." 

"Nothing. And thank you detective. Eyes Only appreciates your dedication. Wait!" he added, before Detective Sung hung up, "Do you think you can be very busy elsewhere this afternoon? Maybe searching through old unsolved case files or something?" 

"Sure." 

"Thanks." Logan hung up the receiver and drummed his fingers on the table. 

"So? Our guy all set?" Alec called from across the room. 

"No," Logan said. Alec raised his brows and waited. Logan didn't bother with an explanation; that was between Eyes Only and his contact. 

"Great." Alec gave him a snarky smile and nodded. "That's just peachy. So now what are . . ." 

Alec stopped as Original Cindy wandered in, shepherding a group of transgenic children as she talked with Sketchy. The sudden lack of annoying commentary from Alec drew Logan's attention. 

"New plan," Alec said, and then he shook his head. "This should be fun. Hey guys!" he called and sauntered over to them. Original Cindy fixed him a look that made him stop several feet from her. 

"Uh-uh. Now this is trouble," she said to Sketchy. 

"I need a hooker. And you're her." 

"A hooker. As in a _prostitute_? You think Original Cindy would make a good prostitute. Mmhmm. And you!" Her slap took Sketchy by surprise, mid-chortle. "Stop laughing." 

"It's for Max," Alec said, and she dropped the attitude. 

"For Max?" 

"They've got her. I need someone inside who's not on their radar yet. That's you." 

"Fine. What does a girl have to do?" she said. 

Alec smiled. "Max is guarded. Probably shackled. They know better now, and they're not going to take chances. We can get her out with a full-on assault and we'd definitely win, but it would be messy. So instead, I'm going to distract them, and you're going to get a little something to Max." He held up a little bag of yellow powder and smiled. "Compliments of Mole's desert plant know-how. And very X5-specific." 

* * *

Original Cindy kept her lips pursed in a saucy pout as she looked around the busy station. The third time the officer in front of her cleared his throat, she turned a lazy gaze to him. When he had her attention, he flipped open a nearly empty folder. 

"Okay, what have we here? Propositioning a uniformed officer? Not a smart thing to do if you want to avoid getting arrested." The officer raised a bushy brow above the papers and stared at her. Original Cindy thought it highly unlikely that something like that would get her arrested—in her experience, police tended to reward that sort of behavior—which is why she had done it on the steps of the station, in view of others, to force them to _have_ to arrest her. 

"So, Cynthia," he began, in a strangely friendly tone of voice, and he closed the file again. Shit, she thought, the man was going to talk her back to the good path! _Please save me from idiots with a cause._ She didn't have that kind of time. 

"Nuh-uh. Only Original Cindy's mama gets to call her that. And you ain't her." Strong, head up, never back down. Mama would be damn proud to see her little girl standing up like this. Then again, Mama would have had harsh things to say about the creative string of insults that she let follow, but, thankfully, the officer seemed to be irritated beyond words. He stood up. 

"I was willing to let you off with a warning," he said. "You think about that during your stay with us." 

A dozen people already occupied the cell, but none of them was Max. Original Cindy's shoulders fell, but she was her mama's girl, so she squared them again, and called out. "How the hell is someone supposed to find anybody in this place?" 

"Hey," Max's loud voice still carried to her, even through the cat-calls and the ruckus, "the service in here sucks!" 

Original Cindy looked around but didn't see Max until she looked at the cell across from her. They had given Max a cell to herself, and, like Alec had suspected, they'd shackled her legs to the floor, and manacled her hands together. 

Original Cindy noticed that the man guarding Max's cell didn't even blink at the noise. 

"Well girl, what did you do to get a classy place like this all to yourself?" she called over to her friend. That did get the guard's attention, and he rapped a truncheon on the bars in front of Original Cindy's face. 

"No contact with the prisoner," he said at the same time as Max spoke. 

"Lucky, I guess," Max said, without removing her eyes from her friend. 

Once the guard moved back to his spot and no longer watched her, Original Cindy reached into the inner lining of her shoe and palmed the little package Alec had tucked in there. When the guard looked away momentarily, she flashed open her palm, showing the packet to Max. Max's eyes widened then narrowed. She waited for Max's signal, and the next time the guard was distracted, Original Cindy slid the packet across the floor to Max's cell and breathed a sigh of relief once it passed the bars without detection. 

Her movements small and quick, Max snagged the packet without alerting the guard. With her back turned to the cameras, Original Cindy saw Max sniff at the contents of the pouch and turned to her in surprise. 

"You know, you seem nice enough," Original Cindy said loudly to the woman closest to her, "but I have this friend—just picture the most annoying self-centered person in the world—and he's the one who got me into this, and—" 

"Shut the hell up, bitch," one of the other women yelled. "No one here cares!" 

But Original Cindy saw Max nodding from the corner of her eye. Message received. Her lip curled up in a small smile of relief at a job successfully accomplished. Except that she was still jailed until tomorrow. 

"Logan knows about this?" Max called out and she pretended to cough as she used her teeth to open the little packet. 

"Quiet, you!" The guard's truncheon flashed again, and its resounding boom on the cell bars brought a moment of silence before the noise in the cells returned to its normal level. 

" Original Cindy shrugged and glanced at the guard before she spoke. "What—" 

"Make sure Logan knows," Max said, and she ingested the whole thing. 

Original Cindy shook her head in confusion. "Knows what?" she asked loudly, and she was hit by a wave of foreboding. But by then Max couldn't answer. 

The shakes started first. They were barely noticeable initially, just a twitch here and there. Max kept her eyes fixed on Original Cindy. The rattling of chains from convulsing, manacled hands and feet silenced the conversation in the cells as everyone craned to see what was happening. Then they began to yell. The guard called for help, but by the time they arrived Max no longer moved. To Original Cindy, horrified and watching from across the hall, it didn't even look like she was breathing. 

"Do something!" she yelled. They ignored her as they finally found someone with the necessary clearance to open the transgenic's cell. When the cell door opened, the youngest officer rushed in and did a hurried assessment, but when he went to begin resuscitation, an older officer caught his arm and pulled him back. 

"Don't. She's one of the freaks. The ones with the barcodes . . . Look. Don't touch it." They both stepped away from Max. "Fuck," the older officer muttered to the fresh-faced kid who must have just started on the job. "I hate when shit like this happens. The fucking paperwork is insane. You'll see." 

"Wh. . .what are we going to do with the b . . . body?" 

The older guy seemed surprised. "Nothing. That's the coroner's job, dealing with the bodies. Besides, we can't move it—standing orders. Anything to do with the freaks goes through Agent White." 

"Um, okay, but she's . . ." 

"Gorgeous, right? Yeah, those are the most dangerous kind. Don't let the hot bod fool you. Come on, let's grab a coffee." 

"Yeah?" 

"Well, whatever's passing for coffee today."

* * *

Original Cindy stopped pacing and stared at the blanket-draped body across the hall. And then she began pacing again. It was part of the plan, she told herself. All part of the plan. She had loudly berated the guards for their lack of concern and now silently cursed Alec for the lack of warning. She had been so caught up in the rush to get to Max before White that she hadn't asked enough questions. Not nearly enough questions. What if— 

"Hey! You. You're outta here," a voice yelled at her. She froze. 

"Yeah, you," the young officer said, and opened the cell door, with a warning look at the others. "Your lucky day. We've gotta free up space, so you're bounced. And you three," he said, pointing at a group of young girls in the corner. "You're out too." 

The four of them filed out and were escorted to wait for their belongings. 

"It might be a while," the junior officer told them. "Been a busy night." 

Her eyebrows shot up, and she glared at him. "If you—" 

"What the hell!" someone behind her said. She turned around to search for the person who spoke and saw a harried officer on the phone. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand and yelled over his shoulder. "Sir, we have four more calls! Disturbances, fights . . ." 

_'Bout damn time, Alec_ , she thought. 

"Mutants?" The Captain walked out of his office. 

"No sir." 

"Thank goodness. Must be a full moon, or something," the Captain muttered to himself as he studied the assignment board. "Okay. Send Unit Five to the domestic disturbance, Six and Seven to the bar brawl . . . Oh, and move that body to the morgue. We'll need the holding space. I'll call Agent White and let him know that the girl died and where to find the body." 

They wheeled Max's covered body through the lobby. One hand dangled down. Still. Preternaturally still, Original Cindy thought, and she hoped, for the hundredth time, that Alec knew what he was doing. She had the disturbing feeling that she'd killed her best friend. 

"What the hell are you doing, bringing a body through here?!" The receptionist scraped his chair back and advanced quickly on the two underlings pushing the stretcher. Original Cindy couldn't make out what was said, but the stretcher was allowed to continue. She thought one of them looked familiar, but she didn't have a clear line of sight. 

When she had retrieved her confiscated personal effects, she walked towards the exit. 

"But sir, she died," the captain was saying. "I don't think . . ." He had pinned his phone to his shoulder with one ear, and gestured frantically to a co-worker as he took notes with the other hand. "Yes, sir!" As Original Cindy watched, the Captain slammed down the phone "Shit! Has the dead girl been moved yet? . . . Fuck! Go!" he bellowed. "Bring her back. Now." 

_Hurry, Alec_ , she thought. 

She had barely reached the bottom step before a squeal of tires was heard and she looked over to see a white van being driven by a tall man with a long flowing mane. Joshua. She smiled. With White's people distracted by the increase of transgenic activity, and the police called away under various pretext, Alec had promised an easy bust. 

A blare of horns and squealing tires were heard as a handful of cars came around the corner, with sirens blaring. As they sped past her, she saw White in the passenger seat of the second car. At the sound of gunfire ahead, she began to run. 

The sector gate reminded her of an upturned ants' nest. She couldn't get past; in the crowd, she couldn't even get near enough try. 

"What happened?" she asked a young mother with a crying toddler. The woman readjusted the child in her arms and gestured towards the sector gate in annoyance. 

"It's going to be a while," she said. "Not sure really what happened but they blocked the gate and opened fire on a white van, but it just crashed right through the gate. Heard that they think they hit someone though, so that's good, I guess. Crazy world." 

"Yeah," Original Cindy said, and she looked towards Terminal City in the distance and hoped. 

* * *

When the van skidded to a stop, Alec had never been happier. With every bump, turn, and evasion, he had become more and more light-headed, and had struggled to hold onto consciousness. The bullet, which had shattered the rear window and sprayed everyone with bits of glass, had struck him in the chest. He didn't think there was an exit wound, so it must still be there. Not fatal, he hoped, so long as he got medical attention soon. One of the transgenics had done medical training, he knew, and she'd set up a temporary infirmary. 

Joshua threw open the rear doors and let out a cry of distress at what he saw. Max, lying as if dead, covered in a spray of blood. Alec had made Joshua privy to part of the plan, but not the whole thing. Not the part about Max. There hadn't been enough time and the man wouldn't have liked the idea. Since Joshua had been both their driver and lookout, he hadn't seen Alec maneuver Max's still body into the vehicle. 

"It's okay, Max isn't dead; she should be coming out of it soon," he tried to tell Joshua, but it came out as sputters and gurgles of blood. Maybe this was more serious than he had thought. It became harder to breathe, and he was absurdly glad for his Manticore-given body that required less oxygen. He blinked and tried to reassess the situation, but he had difficulty thinking through the haze. 

"Hurry!" Joshua yelled, and soon hands grabbed at Alec, jostled him, and his vision darkened. The last thing he saw was Logan's pale face as he rushed to them. Logan didn't know the plan either. It hadn't seemed like an oversight until now. 

Despite his efforts, Alec wasn't able to hold onto consciousness. 

* * *

"No! No—!" The cry turned into a howl of mourning before Logan rushed into the room. Joshua lay sprawled on the concrete floor and his hand clawed at his hair as he howled. Logan had seen two transgenics rush by with Alec on a stretcher. He didn't look good. Logan looked around for Max but she hadn't emerged, so Logan advanced. 

The van doors had been thrown open and a body lay stretched out on the floor of the vehicle, covered in blood. _Please, let it be Alec's blood_. He knew the thought was uncharitable, but couldn't help it. He pulled back the covering sheet and saw her. Max. 

No. 

Despite the blood, she had no injuries that he could see, but her skin was so cold. He placed his head over her shirt and listened but found no heartbeat. Touching her like that, even through clothing, should have had her yelling, screaming at him about safety, about the damn virus. But now there was only silence, because she had no breath . . . 

"Hey, you! Computer boy!" He didn't know who tried to talk to him, and he really didn't care. "Come on, help me move her. Let's get her over by that painting. We're going to need that van." 

"The infirmary." 

"What?" The gruff, annoyed voice belonged to Mole, Logan realized. 

"We have to get her to the infirmary," he said again. 

Mole tilted his head and studied Max. "Why? She's okay, and they're pretty busy right now. It's not like there's anything they can do for her. Just give it some more time to wear off." 

Logan bit back the scream that threatened to burst forth. He would never understand the cavalier way the transgenics handled death, but even for them, Mole seemed far too relaxed about this. Maybe he was right; she was dead, and nothing could be done. But . . . Logan stared at her, at the way her dark hair framed her face, and couldn't imagine how time could ever make her loss bearable. 

"So," Mole promted, "you going to help? Cause there are other things I have to do before _your_ people come barging in here." 

"No. No! Just leave. Go away. I'll do it." Logan's voice broke on the last word and Mole seemed confused by the tears that followed. 

"Yeah, okay," Mole said, slowly. "You do that." He backed a couple steps before he turned and rushed off to help the group that was fortifying the doors. 

Max. She was wavy now, and Logan wiped at his eyes to better see her. They had never really had a fair shot. Logan swallowed. He'd been close, he knew, to winning her back. And now . . . He had lost everything, had struggled for so long, and the one person he couldn't lose was gone. He could fight against Manticore, against the corrupt government, but even he couldn't fight against death. 

No! He rejected a world without her. He bent down and covered Max's mouth with his, allowing himself the kiss that she wouldn't have chanced had she been alive. He held her face in both hands and brushed her cheek. He smiled against her lips when he felt the first faint tingle, and his tears now wet both of their faces. He collapsed next to her as convulsions wracked his body. The virus proved more virulent this time, as he had been warned. With his previous exposures he was extra sensitive to it, and he knew it wouldn't be long. He held tight to Max's hand and refused to look away from her face. As breathing became difficult, and the world became fuzzy, he thought he saw her take a breath and cough. As he moved beyond convulsions, he seemed to float in a cocoon of peacefulness, and as darkness claimed him, he thought he saw her open her eyes and he smiled before he closed his own for the last time. 

* * *

When Original Cindy arrived through one of the last hidden entrances still open, Terminal city was an ant's nest of people running around, moving crates and scrap metal, and assembling weapons. She stopped Mole as he carried an armful of weapons towards the barricade. 

Where are they? Where's Max?" Original Cindy yelled. "Did that stuff kill her?" 

Mole looked at her as if she's gone insane. "No! Of course not! She's still in the van with computer-boy. He wouldn't move her. Anyway, she should be awake soon." 

Original Cindy shook her head. "No, no, no," she said to herself as she rushed toward the van. 

Others had arrived first, and she saw two people rushed away on stretchers, amid much yelling. She bit her lip and she ran alongside. Only one of them was moving. She saw Joshua, upset, and in a near-panic, and she veered off to talk to him. 

"Stop it! Max needs you now." Original Cindy covered her ears as that set off a new string of howling. She punched his shoulder, and though it couldn't have hurt, he immediately stopped the racket and looked at her, stunned. 

" _Max is alive_ ," she told him. He shook his head violently. 

"No! Saw her. Nooo!" 

Original Cindy took his head in both her hand and forced it still. "Max. Is. Not. Dead. It was part of the plan. To get her out. Alec thought—" 

"Alec? Alec's plan?" Joshua asked. She was relieved to see him starting to think again. 

"Yeah, Alec's plan," she said. "Except that Alec got hurt and couldn't tell you. The idiot." 

"Max is alive?" 

"Yeah, she woke up. It will take a while for whatever stuff that was to wear off." 

"Where? Where is Max?" 

"They took her up to the infirmary. But," she placed her hand on his arm as he began to walk away, "we're going to wait here. They will be busy with Alec and Logan." 

"Logan got hurt?" 

"Yeah. Logan got hurt." She looked away. 

"Hey, you two!" someone called to them. "We need reinforcements at the side of the barricade. The Breeders are going to come in." 

Joshua growled. 

* * *

Max woke up to quiet. The lack of noise was upsetting, and she didn't know why. It took her a few minutes to hear the yelling and banging coming from the outside window. She grimaced at the bitter taste in her mouth and she swallowed against the bile that threatened to come up. The events slowly came back to her, a trickle here and a flood there. She'd been caught when she'd tried to save that kid. Original Cindy had brought her something from Alec. Alec had had a plan. She blinked again and her vision began to clear. Alec's good ideas . . . no wonder she was in the hospital. She frowned and looked around. Not a hospital: a makeshift sickroom. She noted the outline of a bed next to hers and closed her eyes against the strain. She opened them again and made out Logan's silhouette. She smiled, she would recognize him anywhere. 

"Logan," she said. It came out as a croak and reached for the glass of water that someone had left on a chair next to her where normally a hospital would have a small night table. The lukewarm water was the most wonderful thing in the whole world as it soothed her parched throat. 

"Logan," she repeated. A yell and crash distracted her and she eased herself into a sitting position and inched her way to the dirty window. Through the cracked pane, she saw the two sides facing each other across the barricade: the transgenics and the normals. It looked mostly like posturing, speeches, and rabble-rousing, with the occasional rock thrown. She made out Joshua, towering above everyone else, and Original Cindy next to him. She needed to get down there before it was too late, if it wasn't already. Steadier now, she walked around her bed to get to Logan's, careful to maintain a safe amount of distance. 

"Hey," she smiled at him, "wake up, lazy." He didn't usually sleep so soundly. Her smile faded as she looked more closely. His chest wasn't rising; his face was grey. "Logan!" she yelled, as close to his ear as she dared. She grabbed a spare blanket and used it to shake him, and then she froze in horror. Logan's body didn't move with the relaxed motion of someone asleep. 

"Someone, help!" she called, but though her voice started with a yell, it finished as a whisper. She knew it was too late. Glaring up at her like an accusation were the too-familiar pock-marks, Manticore's parting gift. "Logan," she whispered. She dropped the blanket and, like a robot, her hand came up to cover his. She trembled at the touch. What she had wanted for so long was the same thing she'd give away in a second if it meant he'd open his eyes. But it didn't matter now; she couldn't hurt him anymore. 

"Why?" she whispered, but no one answered. It had taken her a long time to recognize what she wanted for her life, and it was Logan. She wanted him around, wanted him happy, even if it meant they had to be apart. Knowing he was there, that he was alive, had been enough. Barely. Now . . . it could never be enough. Max lay her head down on his chest, and ran her fingers through his hair. What was she going to do now? 

She searched the room for some clue as to what happened. She'd recognized the drug Alec had sent her and had intuited the plan. It had been a bit risky, but less so than staying in White's hands. She let her tears fall onto the sheet that she'd half-pulled over Logan. He should have been safe in Terminal City. How had she managed to poison him? Nothing made sense. 

As she searched for clues, she noticed the bed beyond Logan. She stumbled unsteadily to it, and caught herself when she saw Alec. His clothing was soaked in blood and some of it had been cut away in an effort to attend to his injury. Potentially lethal, she noted. He was breathing, though, which was more than . . . 

"What did you do? Alec! What happened?" she yelled at him. There was no answer, merely a barely-heard moan. It wasn't fair, she knew, to blame him, but he was the only other one here, and she desperately needed a target. 

She grabbed for Logan's hand again, and as she did so, her hand brushed up against something hard. A little knife, the box cutter he'd been using to fix the computers, was clipped onto his belt. Blinking away tears—they never helped—she looked at the knife blade. 

And she knew what to do. Easy. Nothing had ever been clearer. 

* * *

_"What did you do?"_ The words reverberated in his ears, cutting into his consciousness when softer words hadn't. _"Alec! What happened?"_

Max, Alec thought. And she's angry. He almost wondered why but lost the thought as another wave of pain hit. He fought his way out of the pain; Manticore training had been excellent in that area, and those skills had proved very useful to those who survived the training. Max was angry and alive (those kind of went hand in hand) and—oh, she'd woken up! There was something he was forgetting . . . 

Logan! He hadn't had the chance to tell Logan about the effect of that particular drug on X5s. No wonder she was angry. Logan must have been worried. But everything worked out fine, except for that bullet—fuck that hurt. And Max was angry. 

Alec opened his eyes a sliver, and waited while they adjusted. Max wasn't yelling anymore, she was talking quietly to someone, just soft enough that he couldn't hear. He turned his head and blinked in surprise to see Logan. Then he noted the lack of color in his face, the tracks of tears on Max's, and the knife in Max's hand. 

"Max." Alec's weak whisper wasn't heard. He tried to cough, so he could try again, but the movement sent another blinding flare of pain. When he could see again, Max hadn't moved. She still stared at Logan, but her face seemed calm. Resolute. 

The glint off the blade, just before Max plunged it through her chest, was the only warning Alec had. He sat up and cried out, both in pain at the movement and in shock at what he was seeing. Max had driven it with force, precisely angled, and the trajectory had likely sent it through her heart and into her spinal cord. He stared at her body as it flopped over Logan's. Max's blood dripped down to pool on the floor. 

He sagged back down and stared at the bodies before him. It took several tries for him to make it to his feet and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene before him. 

When he finally stood, Alec knocked the chair over in his anger, and then caught himself as the exertion made his head spin. It would take his body some time to repair itself and recuperate from the blood loss. But he needed to _do_ something. To act. And there was nothing. Nothing he could do to change what had happened. Though he was missing some pieces of the puzzle and still had no idea what went wrong, he knew that this could have been avoided. Ever since he had left Manticore, everything he touched imploded—and Max would have to come clean up the mess. Guilt threatened to rob him of breath. He took a sheet and threw it over the bodies. 

"Alec, here you are." Mole strode into the room and stopped at the sight of the draped bodies. "Who'd we lose?" he asked, grim-faced. Alec said nothing, and Mole looked away. "Right," he continued, with a small nod. "Listen, I got word that there's covert mobilization of the left flank." 

"They're coming in through the waste site," Alec said quietly. Though Terminal City was livable, there were still some areas that were too toxic to enter, where not even the hardiest of the transgenics ventured. 

"Yeah. And they've got the gear to do it," said Mole. 

"And we don't," Alec finished. "Let's go." He picked up the jacket he'd been wearing when he was shot. The blood had dried and had stiffened the material, but he pulled it on, careful not to strain himself. That would come later, in battle, when the adrenaline kicked in. 

"It's a suicide mission," Mole said, gently, making sure Alec understood. 

"Yeah, I know." He clamped down on the emotion that threatened to spill outward. That needed to be saved for White. "Seems to be going around." 

The door closed behind them with a soft swish. 

* * *

End

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes and Acknowledgements:**
> 
> This story was written as a pinch-hit for the Dark Angel ReverseBang. Thank you to sandrasfisher, who probably didn't have a story like this in mind but who didn't mind letting me play. Please check out her artwork [here](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/dareversebbmod/57812447/9667/9667_original.jpg).
> 
> This beautiful art jogged a very hazy memory of an old jacket cover for a vinyl recording of Romeo and Juliet that my parents once had. My story borrowed major plot elements from that Shakespeare work. If you don't know which elements, [read more here](http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1112). The title is from Romeo's last line (Act 5, scene 3). 
> 
> Thanks to my lovely beta and the hardworking mod of da_reversebang, dollarformyname. You're awesome!
> 
> — WT


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